Devils deadly dime
The sign said no grown-up at the playground.
Tripping on a penny, like a mime!
My hand is in my pocket with the dime I found.
Its all mine, I asked for the devils hand that time.
Echoes in my head, bounded by a screaming sound.
Paying for a forgotten crime,
on what comes around goes around.
A prison with greed that carries an evil musical chime.
Jumping off the merry-go-round!
Encouraged by the devil,
the pleasure of his deadly nursery rhyme.
Now the world is measured by my blood level.
The devils delight feasted on my youth before I hit my prime.
Bashing my mind, with thoughts implanted by evil.
Entering the day with no beauty to my sublime.
Begging him to remove this anvil!
He laughed while he cursed me with a favor for a favor.
A fallout so violently in this world not civil.
One can only lust on the taste that only he can savor.
Hanging out by the swings wounding me with prey,
on two victims to his delicious flavor.
I climb my way to teach a lesson in hate not love.
Two siblings who always scream for each other.
Giggling as I offered each a push and a shove.
Stopping they give each other a big hug.
Defeating and proving love is a stronger disease
The devil wicked eyes looking at me like a bug.
Clawing at my inner guts with remorse that he will win this war.
Until another day one skips the penny,
and begs a poor fool like the devil for his dime.
Tossing heads for his tail when times hits rock bottom.
I will stray away from his deadly reaction time.
He will not own my soul so freak'em,
and his greedy deadly beg of a dime.
by;pd

In this world of Uncertainties
I’m the man that you can trust
And in my words of sincerity
That my love would never last.
And if you could only feel, what i feel for you
You can ask me “why?” so you can see the truth
Like our love that tightens the rope,
Like a light that would give us hope.
As you watch the dark skies
Let me grab the moon for you,
And as I catch the bright stars
That’s the way you can see me through
As this planet turns as it always will
And things go wrong and you don’t know what to feel
Hold my hand for it will make us strong
Like a wind, we will carry on
The wind blow that sings a hymn for you
For they know what does love means for the two
Love is blind, and not deaf
So how’s success if you’re not ready to bet?
In this poem with full of rhymes,
A full of love, Babe can you be mine?
I don’t expect too much from you
Why should I? If you complete my whole.
“Till death do us part” that’s what they have said
But why do struggles crash them ahead?
Don’t ask me when my love will last,
To count all of our quarrels, is that a must?
Now and Forever is all that I promise
No day dreaming and without reminiscence
As the matter of time, as the time passes by
Together we stand, together you and I

A poem for my Girlfriend for our anniversary :)
pls comment and rate... you are free to judge and criticize my work :) God Bless

The days seem to go by so fast. there is a void in the air, the birds have lost their vibrant beat, the ocean has lost its luster, the soil feels solid and dry.
My soul feels as if it has left my body before my death, my dreams haunt my day, the tears stain my steps, my doctor says that it is depression, I say that it is reality, I am intoxicated by society,I am numb by perscriptions.
Why do I feel so isolated within myself? is there no one in my painfully tight shoes? can anyone understand my pain? can anyone melt in my sorrows? why am I this way? why is the world so cruel? why can't I be normal?
Wait! I am normal, what am I saying, I know now, the veil has been lifted, humanity is my enemy, the sins that drip from their sweat, the dread that follows their shadows, their souls of black, their intentions of greed pull a shade across their eyes.
They are destined for doom, they will not be saved, they will not find salvation, they belittle me, they curse me, they shame me, but they are right about one thing, I am different, unlike them, I will be saved in the last days.

The sweetest sounds of burning trees
A gentle stroking in the breeze
The calm has lasted past the storm
Cloudy visions, Satan’s roar
Too many sights have passed my way
A time found only in the haze
The softest screams are running bare
My aching bones creak as I stare
You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark
The battle’s started at the end
No one is coming to repent
The sinners grab their wine from prey
No judgment calling here to stay
The sport is reckless to be told
The one is laughing at his souls
It falters nowhere to be sure
The power grows forevermore
Like a spirit in the wind
I have no say in where you’ve been
But cross the line to come to me
And pay the price for ecstasy
You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark.

I would rather be a hammer than a nail. "Yes i would, if I could, out
in the open ocean," would I sail.
If I could, and if I should ! I will not take for granted the physical view of
seeing my mother working herself singlehandily and instill in us the mentality
of endurence that is not to be_______"Misunderstood.."
"If I could, and had I my wings to fly !" "{for} then I would go somewhere re-
pudated where there is no crime against humanity." My wings to fly, amidst the
yonders on high, and I got into a conversation with the great wise owl. And I ask..
...oh yes-would I, "O'Wise Owl, would you care to tell me...will this bread of (poverty)
be enough to feed my family!" "I would if I could, is his reply-as he stares out be-
yond the massive blue sky..."Alone this is not the essence of a happy home, but the
everlasting word of knowledge is the fruit of endurence, and God's present in your
life is how feed the Multitudes and recieve the fulness of my seed." "O'Great Owl..
...I must obey, and then he up's and flies away....(!!!).."
I rather to have been the diamond than the pearl, if I could, I surily will make the
wealthy pay their share of taxes, and then perhaps it just might be enough to help
feed the hungry childrens of the world. So, in this divertsified world in which (we) all
live day too day, and play the game of life as if it shall lead us as a metaphor society
to knock on wood.
I rather be in Heaven than in jail if I could, I surily would because I do care,

What pushes my pen in this whimsical notch of the world?
Something whispers to me like an elder dream....
and the trees hang arbored 'oer a little stream of sea,
the feathered folk flit and flute,
and sip the may-season rill;
Where sun has finally come dipping like a diamond.....
I am measured to this mighty moment found;
and there is holly even in the most forgotten shade,
though royal (even) ----- with garland diadems made
It would seem the angels have foretold this:
to not forget the most beauteous of days;
with proud hours honeyed,
the long-loving minute endures in thy heart,
and remembers the kiss of legends
despite realms of sadness and dark,
the withered wind which blows old upon the sad hills....
too ancient for wise men; for in youth how pink the heart
and varied, new struggles are many -----
yet plain with simple solutions
Mercy hath not a mind for memory....
swift its song, its house clean of enemies lurking,
no bogey-man skulking the midnite hour,
no roving-a-wraith scratching the old attic boards;
Forgiveness sleeps in the quiet wood,
and wakes with whispers of faith,
with the ease of nestled lambs and recollected days;
What poor tragedy to fret with dark remembrance,
to furl hades in the denizens of thy heart ----
black-tongued as the devil in his den!
What fool would prefer a scowl to a smile?
enemies come and go.....
friends come and remain,
when the house is quiet with memories....
of youth and adventure in the old daydream glass;
more precious the ancient hours
and parched the pages of first chapters,
first beginnings, first faces in the ripples of time's pond;

Breathe seductive it touches my superstition craving your instincts I cant speak in
fear
of isolation cradle your serenity with manipulated premonitions motives of
indiscretion
abandoned by stray inspiration a metaphor that leaves us vulnerable and
bittersweet
broken
yet victorious. Aroused by fascinations of pleasure captivated by hypnotized
surroundings
the
obsession torn by September rain, revive those trembling confessions drenched
with
deception
see past the disguise and offer a solution with passionate eyes. Tame the dahlia
of
natural
redemption the want is savage the thrill is the remedy over take this creation and
satisfy
the
agony do the impossible and please me after so many shouts of blasphemy.
Serpent of
emptiness I surrender in your mist secrets will be kept at this alter emotional
cleansing
set in
versus verboten.

generic minds listen to generic music
have generic thoughts that are unknowingly abusive
watch generic things talk about generic things
gee this generic *****is spreading like a disease
better get your flu shot
thats what they said to me
a suicidal vaccine
a subliminal killing spree
its contagious and the outrageous
thing about it is that the people are blind in an eye
that they didn't even know they had
it's sickening to watch these clueless civilians
inside the looking glass
with nightmares of being free
without a key to their mind
for it is trapped in the frequency
in the illusion of time
bathed in our universe
killing all that refuse to see
those that admit to hypocracy
or see the message in hip hop
how cant you see
the message in the lyrics that
bring adolescents to their knees
from bullet wounds conflicting their flesh
contradicting that they're the best
but the songs keep telling them that they dont need no rest
that they dont wanna go home
that they should ride alone
with the gat as their only companion
and so the only path they choose is the one that they're told
until they grow old and hope turns to a window pane
inside a window pane, until all they feel is pain
they realize that the music itself is ashamed
so whats to look up to
when you cant even speak when you cant even walk because you look so bleak
your eyes are sunken from the tv you're infested with the dee zees
now its too late to turn around and live for your conscious
so when youre screaming oh please
close your eyes and bring your mind to life
open your eyes for the first time
and never wonder why
since the answer this entire time
has been inside
and you better find it before you die
you dont want your soul to be in a pool with all the others
a buncha brothers missing their mothers
but only seeing strangers
only feeling the haters
wishing they would have used their minds when they had them
and now its too late,
now it's time for another new born fate to grab them

(THE GHOST)
With the open, naked eye,
Pure death approaches!
Incredibly hollow, kick the bucket long ago
No, whiff nor smell when “THE GHOST” is around.
Abuses the whiteness, in which exists inside these sheets.
It can be the cost and the reason of your overdose in question.
Go ahead and dig your own grave.
I have already commissioned your headstone.
You won’t be remembered,
The aftermath this GHOST creates, will leave you babbling, even in your crate.
This is that whiteness you do not want to feel or taste.
Once he or she was a nobody, is now “The Infamous Ghost!”
The one that lives within your ‘Indian Hollow Walls.’
The Ghost’ leaves heat behind in your room.
It prowls around, leaving you within a near death experience every night.
This' ghost left behind will wreak havoc on your soul,
Shh! Listen to your walls, they speak quite a bit.
Once you find yourself with broken wind, and watery eyes.
Do not think this is your maker in the process.
‘The Ghost’ with eyes so potent compels a numbing stare!
If there really is such a thing as reincarnation,
Then you had better think that this ghost was a ghost in its own past life.
‘The Ghost’ can have you breathing out tears so intense.
Leveling your entire room, with a moat surrounding your bedded kingdom.
Not even your frightened watery dripping eyes will salvage your soul.
Nothing will come in handy before you die.
‘The Ghost’ will incinerate on your obituary.
… It will read…
“There is nothing to Fear but Fear itself! “Said: Franklin D. Roosevelt!”
That, and the fear is all this fearless 'Ghost will leave behind.
It will have you thinking in rational fear.
(RIP)
-Skat's Poetry-

If there ever was a time in the history of human,
It is now that one’s being is bound to civic duty impost.
He or she is a loyal citizen of his or her nation.
Intensify is the fortress bond of armory and strength.
Through our faith and courage, our minds and our heart have engaged vigor.
Dynamism is diversification via structure.
What is seen is statement beyond repose via strategy.
As we discuss the militant way, we centralize our thoughts
To suffrage in other nations against dogmatic methods.
Systemically approached the right to vote interposed by
Illegality of the election booth intervened by
Bribes and other means to destroy equitability.
What is seen is statement beyond repose via strategy.
Impartiality is an assured plus of unanimous.
Political leaders aboard focus on a suppressed nation
Through their views on enslavement and incapacitation.
For sure, this is the Putin’s views of the Ukraine orders retain.
To incarcerate through tenets of rapaciousness is cruel.
Therefore, what is seen is only a system of beliefs.
The Ukrainians must remain free to be at liberty.
______________________________________|
Verlena S. Walker
Penned on October 02, 2014!
Form: Decapentasyllabic Verse

What is a fight without a cause?
Is it just a hidden affair that has no voice?
Only knowledge that cannot be divulged and when discussed, the topic is irrelevant.
Mentality is a place of iniquity.
Mediums are designed by civil engineers to place mentally captured vestibules; those,
which will manifest identities.
You can hear their mundaneness in their conversation.
You do not want to speak to a naked wall.
As a result, they enter your vocal environment.
For that reason, you speak out.
___________________________________|

A MOTH, A PORCH LIGHT, ALONE IN AN OPEN WINDOW---
Owning up to his shortfalls may be his most difficult task.
Tomorrow mirrors that reflection.
In thought, he begins his introspection.
Standing looking out the open window, a moth distracted his attention.
He turned on the porch light thinking about how he was always alone.
He did not know why he kept the window open all night.
His analysis found he feared the unknown.
“May I concentrate in a philosophical mode?
Winter is coming fast and I do not want to be out in the rigid cold.
Sometimes I wonder why my mind has grown old.”
Larry had been a recluse for the last ten (10) years or so.
He was a nature walker and he wrote poems.
He was an electrician by trade and skilled in masonry.
He had designed beautiful architect.
His hands provided him an inventor’s intelligence.
However, Larry was always down.
He did not see the open window he looked out.
He felt that the doors had closed.
That he had lost his stance in the world.
Therefore, he caught moths in a jar and watched them wanting freedom to fly.
As he stood on the porch alone, a spirit appeared standing in his open window.
The moths were attracted to the light.
He fanned a moth away from his eyes.
Therein, he felt his eyes were deceiving him; therefore, he looks toward the open window once again.
A noise he hears.
He wakes up wet.
His night fever was on.
He was a pallor of fits.
His sleeping had embraced his condition and the clatter had awaken him within.
His demented state of being demeaned.
He reminisced.
He ruminated the moth while standing under his porch light alone but in his open window stood a pack of coyotes.
|_________________________________________________________________|
Penned on November 01, 2014!

G-O-I- to the N. These 4 letters fill my head and that point I do begin. To go in and bust a ryhme. Come with a bong and you're right on time. To see my quickness, watch my shine and see me snap on every line. Through the course of this beat, I'll try to demonstrate. How everytime I jump on a track, I seem to defacate. And literate the coldness that I epitimate. Let's get it straight. I'm up on my way to the top and all my opponents I will eliminate. I see the game today and I must say it's a shame to mention. they're ryhming street with meat but lack a true flowwer's intuition. they're just spitting about the money and how they're looking so legit. And you say that you're running the streets well I'm about to take your jurisdiction. Because i never run out of breath. Can't you see that I'm clearly insane. Because this state of excessive dilirium has got me on a campaign. To get my streets from out of their sleep. And have them bopping to the beat. It's a renasance full of ambionce. And bovine hide free. It's a party and I'm the host. But the rest you've yet to see. Go by name of Intel The Brain. Or you could just call me I.T.B. Or you can call me that brother that can go up in the sky and have a mass celabration. Homie call it higher than thy. The skills that I sketch in this sonat, so horribly toxic. That if put inside of a missle and you launch it, call it atomic. And if you did'nt understand it then you need to run it back. Because I just plainly showed you how to go in on a track.

I see outer space
As the place
To retrace the roots
Of the human race.
I see under the sea
Is where our bodily
Cells first came to be.
Man's heart is in the stars,
Holding onto the dream to reach Mars.
Man's history,
Written in the stars as destiny.
I am but a child,
Born onto this planet turned wild.
I am but a soul
Sent here to alleviate the toll.
I see a sea of stars,
A healing ocean for our scars.
I see an empty crater
As void as our love for our Creator.
Man's fate has
Always been to create.
Man's destiny is to face
The sailing of the vastness of sea and space.

A leaf fell from the Maple tree;
Another from the Birch--
A dozen more unhooked themselves
From off their lofty perch.
Some fell to heaps upon the ground;
Others scattered on the breeze--
A few still clung tenaciously
To the nearly barren trees.
And I took the winter as a thief
Since it pillaged every tree--
Recalling just how green and full
The branches used to be.
But then I felt a drop, or two
Reminding me again--
That winter is no place for leaves,
But rather snow, and rain!
~M

Their petals are falling as their colors change
It wasn’t this way before but is it strange?
These roses are dying in delicate sweet sorrow
Will their love shed too? Or will it see tomorrow?
Petals and love falling slow like soft snowflakes
A little change in season is all it takes,
But will these roses bloom again in a new morn?
Will their love come back to greatly adorn?
Will their beauty be gone forever once it fades away?
Or will it come back to make everything okay?
For what will the roses be worth if their beauty dies forever?
Will the image and value from them permanently sever?
Will the light in their eyes suddenly become dark?
As their splendor and significance steadily grow stark?
Or will they rise like light at the beginning of dawn?
And be reborn more beautiful than a swan?

She's the flour in the middle of a fertile desert soil
She dreams of my dreams when i dream she dreams dreams that we dream
She's a speechless pole
She's a footstep away from my soul
She dreams of my goal
She's my African queen
Her womb carriers the nation's poetry
She takes me back to my dreams in chains
I make my own God she believes
She's one minute past jealousy
She's the speed of an angry poem in the dark
The black paint building an arch
The spirit of a mic resurrected by a dead poem
Speechless pole stronger than cone
She's my poem
She's my poetic lyrical port
I can see by the blushes right under my rhymes
She's so beautiful she makes you read her repetedly
She's my poem

Coming from where I’m from
By Nate Spears
Published 2013 in “Death OF A Rose” By Nate Spears
Coming from where I’m from
Every day is a battle to survive
War is in session
Right before our eyes
Each day we battle lessons
Just to be in the running for blessings
Coming from where I’m from
We move rapidly on missions
The dead is alive with every walk of the lifeless
Limited income withholds wealth
The living is near death
Spirits are stripped of guilt
Coming from where I’m from
Deprived wealth
Creates bad health
In occurrence to this
Good feelings are killed
The worst gets exposed
As times get worse
Financial situations become a disaster
No man on earth can rehearse
The world is broken
Hunger brings harm
Coming from where I’m from
Dictatorship is not fond
The environment brings the need to shoot
These activities loosens the roots
We’re grounded by values as thin as a pin
We lose ourselves at falling rates like bowling pens
No free passes
Prisons filled in masses
Separated by classes
Coming from where I’m from.

i could sit here. day in and day out
thinking of the most proper way
to let the ink in the pen spill out
but as of late im feeling prehistoric
so much weight on my shoulders
and i dont know where to go
resuscitate my soul
look back up and head to the goal
so much evil around. i feel like the devils workin double shifts just to bring me down.
on the road to redemption
you can take a seat up in the front section
just so you can feel the emotions
in this electric notion
i've done a lot of things that hide the halo
let it all collaborate when i medicate
now look at me, mind workin like plato
formulate a new path to take so i can
maneuver through all the mistakes
we all know we cant change what we've already made
but we can change the next thing we create
startin to sound like a serenity prayer
5 steps till im thirty
and the twenty four before i was never a player
found out when the lights came back on im strictly a lover
its the strongest drink for your soul, when its thirsty
so careful how much you intake or be left hungover
even worse be the one she ran over
i dont mean to come off like im too deep
but the obstacles made there way through just to scrape through
and leave me suffocating
just for me to re-invent a new way to breathe, re-decorating
is your life so complicated
you rather wet up your pillows and revoke from the life you live
just think of your kids mourning
theyll never see that pretty face in the morning any more
cheer your self up
you got a lot to live for
your a gem and im that friend
trynna appraise the value
that you dont see inside of you
just another day for him
goin about
searchin wonderin what his purpose is
running in circles
till he found a way through all the turbulence

Behold my pen
that writes and scribbles
and bleeds blue ink
in drips and dribbles.
That crosses paper
in bites and nibbles
and weighs my thoughts
in spite of quibbles.
Words as strange as
this and then.
Letters and numbers
like S and 10.
Thoughts and feelings
I've had before.
Memories waiting
the pen to bore.
Lines as long
as stretching can.
Jots and jolts
where each began.
Loving strokes
to those I send.
Messages made
that they might blend.
All these meanings
from the heart.
Behold my pen.
Their only art.

A self-written poem begun in Christmas Time,
While it tasting the soup and looking for rhyme.
In the kitchen, neighbor with the quiet tomato paste,
The sorcerer's apprentice, a poet pretty well placed
Near Soups (ciorbe) with characteristic sour taste
With luminous face and much grace added the rest:
As he was sipping and tasting from raw and cooked.
His group had a passionate look at what was booked
For the dinner: These might be meat and vegetable soups.
They had to choose till the coming of the helping troops
For the pig`s sacrifice rite, old mixture of joy and grief
Under the hot and long debrief of the pleasant smell-thief
Tripe soup (ciorba de burta) hard prepared from beef,
And calf foot soup (ciorba de vitel), with green-gold leaf
Pickled soup (supa de moare) with pork and big rice;
But use the dice to decide between spice and allspice.
From the slaughtered pig the village` families prepare:
Carnati - sausages kept in special aromatic smoke
Of wet fir and oak burned at small fire as enjoyed by folk;
Caltabos - sausages made with liver sprinkled with beers;
Toba and piftie - dishes using pig's feet, head and ears
Suspended in aspic like a frozen symphony in red
After cups of plum brandy and before going the bed
Tochitura - pan-fried pork to bid it a farewell, twice
Served with mamaliga - palesta , and red wine with ice,
Or boiled wine with pepper and cinnamon against frost;
So that the pork can swim and the verse were glossed;
Piftie - inferior parts of the bashful pig, mainly the tail,
Feet and ears, kind of meal like taken from a fairytale
In which all are cooked and served in a form of gelatin
In this naturalist field, all the poets smile like Mr.Bean;
Jumari - small pieces of pig meat are fried and tumbled
Through various spices if after all, you are a little troubled
And may falter some poetical from the famous songs
Like "So, good people drink…" couples of diphthongs
Since Saturday to Thursday and make colorful the gray.
This poem was written in the Night of Tuesday to Friday.
( And later we`d find that the housewife had covered with it the pickles cucumbers jar.)

Simply being
Nothing more than
Than it is gone out of hand
No winds to flow to grow in land
Given bright stars in darkness
Nothing more than
Light years rose hope
Back flush riddles in game
Only hope once to face to face
As seen bleeding in tears

Forbidden fruit
On the tree of circumstances
They lay with their fruit
Of deceit like the serpent
Their ways are so wide to
Sorrow
Their beauty end here
With a worthless game
Forbidden fruit
Come with us
They call every where
While the blind keep
Rushing to their
manipulated mystic
With out a common sense
All to fall at an appointed
Time
With a black necked ness
Forbidden fruit
the tree was like
An illusion
When the eye opened
with a rare light
Realising the fruit
From the tree was evil
As they already eat
Blindly the
Forbidden fruit
word for thought
Manipulation is never
Understood until
You know the secret
behind the unknown

He loved her,
she was blind and loved someone else
who did not love her back.
He truly loved her,
but she held him as just a friend;
nothing more than that unwanted title.
He loved her,
soon he'd relize she wasn't the one
he was truly looking out for,
and she was like a blind fish in a salty sea
looking for the hook to pull her in.
He loved her;
but now there is no more to be shared,
it is sad;
truly it is very, very sad.
He went on to greater and better
and she stayed behind in her cloud of smoke
and liver full with alcohols and lungs filled with cancers;
not to be mean;
but she had lost something good...
She had lost a man who truly loved her.
This is a sad tale of love; not being found in the right or wrong place,
see the romantic side is they will still find love,
Oh yes she will find someone
and he will find someone too;
but they will be two different people
who, by their definition will treat them
not for what they possess in their pockets and driveways,
but what they truly possess in their own hearts.
Love does not have just one definition, but many definitions
that all relate to our own needs in life.
In the end we all find love,
just not with the people we except to love us back.
12/2/13

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof
I felt my finger nails digging into his back
What an intensified sexual moment
I never knew that tears could roll
Down the cheeks of a robust man
he wept! he sigh! he came
Again, and again and again
was it a sportsmanship or
an injury cat on a Hot Tin Roof?

The smell of coffee: hot and bitter in the cold winter night
With the rhythm in the left hand and the rhyme in the right,
He wrote a poem in his secret pocket,
A wistful star like a speedy rocket
Ready to leave this planet intense blue
In search of other traces of life anew.
He remembered after mother had died,
In the cold touch ,stalagmites and stalactites cried.
Father and son felt a strong taste for sweets.
As in the sunset, the blind boatman meets
With an awkward touch the water`s ring
But generally they needn`t to eat anything
For a while they rested an extraordinary team:
Father insistently (sometimes boring) told him
All his recollections:childhood,war and the rest…
All muscles and teeth pressed hot, like ice on the crest.
The son learnt them by heart, and later
He would retell them to father, even better…
One was on duty to wash the dishes;
The other tried to follow his wishes…
Their only joy was to read and read and read…
One had to cook at home ,and to bake the bread
In a bread factory:He was happy even when he was sad.
He could recognize each bread: All his loafs were bad.
He was like Chaplin in “New Times”.
He was speaking in figures and rhymes.
He wore a monk beard and father was much more younger.
Looking through the window: grey hunger and anger …
At the weekend, he used to ask his father
About the favourite meal, but rather
He would find a surprise the next day.
Each day was windy winter and grey…
Father had the same touching answer:”Something good”.
In the strange interference ,water and fire ,one was rude.
Solitude was their common friend stealing in like a lizard,
But, in the afternoon they played sweeping their courtyard.
They had leaves in autumn and snow in the winter.
The sky was grey without sun, the clouds were bitter.
Father was counting the leaves, in the old horizon
The son was painting the days ,in the cold horizon.
The war with the falling down leaves fighting hard
With red faces like an inveterate drunkard .
And years after his father met his final hope,
The son would stop in front of the sweets shop ,
Ready to buy recollections as Christmas tree sweets.

I'm feeling good, so I think I'll kick some multi syllable rhymes,
It's a known factor that I flow in undefinable time,
Because I'm killing it, I'm at an undeniable height,
and if you don't like it then you can show me your defiant side
Cause I got a meter, it's full with millimeters to go,
and it'll bust, the brush, will the coat the ground like snow
You listen to one punchline and your eardrums will implode,
Like drowning in the Pacific Ocean and sinking to the benthic zone
It's just to cold, to much pressure for your structure to withhold,
I'll disect you with words, and pick at your skull through damp bones
Through every last note, what I teach you is all that you know
The lesson has been taught, you learned, swallow your pride, and go home
I feel the friction when lead hits paper, and thoughts come to life
Form personification when thoughts speak, and honesty writes
the dictator, of mad rhymes, giving the frustration light,
And I form art because that's what I born to do, and that's right
Stir up some biological warfare, and mix up some chemical fumes,
You need a gas mask, to withstand what's gonna happen to you,
You gotta bad fortune, the palm reader was telling the truth,
Your reputation won't save you, from acid mist that forms dew
With words I torture, incase the rage, then let it out
Then cap it just time, nobody can hear your silent shouts,
you should've took another route, but you pushed these words out of my mouth,
And you made yourself a slave, with metaphors I'll rip you, that's what I'm about
Because of pent up emotions hiding within my skull,
It's easy for me to let loose, and leave the results unresolved
I'll leave you to the bidding, then like a chemical solution you'll disolve,
You'll regret stepping to me, like opening up a puzzle you can't solve
Destroying syllables, this is insanity incased in a beat
Trying to step to me, is like stepping with hot coals under your feet
I'll leave you in a daze, eyes glazed over because you thought you could defeat,
But my attributes were better than yours, cause I was raised by the streets.

for bruce springsteen...
it was a rain-swept monsoon day
way back then, so many moons away
when i felt the music strumming in my veins
setting me free like a runaway horse without any reins
you sang of simple truths,
your verse spoke to people just like me
in my lonely, wasted, and desolately quiet night
as you screamed out tragic human wrongs, and of everyone's plight
'bobby jean' spoke to me
of that girl down the street
glimpses of whom, we as innocents would furtively meet
and 'the river' that flowed through my ever-barren heart
led me down further roads of thunder
when slowly i finally learnt that the hardest part was fighting on
and never to surrender
to the hard-luck dreams that were born to run
while i danced in the dark
with memories vivid and stark
even as i whined like that dog who for forever lost his howling bark
and then a 'human touch' came along
and 'better days' seemed real, not just words in a song
and still you sang and swayed and spoke straight into my unseeing eyes
as gardens of secrets were opened, and as your fist punched the skies
in an anger that i too felt and in whose cauldron i too burned
as we saw murder get incorporated, while on its wobbly axis, our fragile world apathetically turned
and then suddenly i was told that i was all grown up
working on a highway of scattered ideals
and absolving myself by sprinkling some coins in a waiting cup
well, after all these years of walking along so many a thorny road
with an armour of your verse covering me, even as i hear them taunt me and even as they continue to goad
but now i can feel myself fading away, into the bleakness of this coming night
just like the ghost of that old tom joad...

You belong to me mate ( Intro )
And that be that!
Get on board
And grab your hat!
The ship was aghast at its new passenger ( Verse )
Like disdain for the lives that they now left behind,
Newcomers were scarce
And they never would last
But I held up my chin nice and high.
The bloke who took me screamed ( Pre-chorus )
“Mop up the deck we’ve got things to do!”
But I said sir,
I’m just a boy and don’t know what’s to do.
And he said ( Chorus )
“Drifting mainly
Sailin the shores
Taking what’s mine
And leaving what’s yours
Cause you know, we ain’t dead yet.”
Taking the seas for more than eight moons
We found islands and loot
That was bigger than most.
The taste of sea air
With its wind in my hair
Took me away to this new life I lead.
After mopping the deck
He grabbed my hand and screamed
“Steer this ship boy!”
But I said sir,
I’m just a lad and don’t know where to go.
So the crew yelled ( Chorus )
“Drifting mainly
Sailin the shore
Taking what’s mine
And leaving what’s yours
Cause you know, we ain’t dead yet.”
Surprising to me
Was my unshaven face
The captain looked on
And smiled with grace,
We stopped at a place
Where the women were loose and didn’t mind
If we took a peak.
He said “Now you’re a man so let’s get on that boat,
We got places to be and some people to rope,
So grab that sword and drop that mop
Cause you’re no longer a boy in my eyes.”
I practiced the duel with the men in the crew
The captain took eye to my devilish pride,
And he took me aside and said
“Even in death I’m gonna miss you boy
But don’t let it strike you
Or kill your spirits
Cause even time can beat out the Grim.”
Then in the darkness came fire and screams,
Our vessel had stopped after fourteen years,
The crew fought hard and beat most of the men
But now, my Captain was dead.
We took the new ship watching ours sink deep
Saying goodbye to our drowning escape,
The crew turned towards me and asked
“What do we do?” and I smiled,
And they did to.
And we yelled ( Chorus )
“Drifting mainly
Sailin the shores
Takin what’s mine
And leaving what’s yours
Cause you know, we ain’t dead yet.”

"No." She whispered before drowning into her sorrows.
Her life had been a simple happy one.
There were no pains and no troubles.
Life was life and people were people.
Life was simple.
and life was all about tomorrows.
Life didn't know about sorrows.
Her sorrows.
Those same sorrows that she drowned in never existed.
They were never there, but where?
First to be sad in the naive town of joy.
Sorrow became contagious and what was known as happiness no longer was there.
It was non-exististent.
A meager thought
and a blessed memory.
She tried and tried.
She failed and failed.
Life was no longer hers.
For Pain was her only possession.
Her curse.
She lived and she died.
Yet, her legacy was passed on.
Never was it gone.
"No." She whispered before drowning in her sorrows,
"Save them."

father time in my chest
keeper of its own pace
just skin and bone depth
influences time and space
what are we but drifters
in an unknown
see truth in a literal
belief before my face
stars with no funeral
light will win the race
here i am, not for long
death starts at home
where is this leading?
which story could it be?
despite all my reading
writings the cup of tea
i dont need to know it all
as long as im not alone

I create monsters
Then I wait in ages to hunt me
Monsters in dreams as I introduce
Become real hi t haunting to me as I work
They made me pay the bill never on time
Dreams and wishes garble in sparkly gluey neon dark cloud
Than every thought haunts as I live by them
It is a kind of monsters hidden in cloudy day in darkest cloud
They have very special kinds a I introduce from my birth
One is so kind the other everything about is greed
Third one is mirror watching what you have done
Monsters hunts me and fight them in my each day

Red light, Green light, cigarette buds
Red means stop,
green means go,
cigarette buds punched out in an dirty ash tray
means death is coming for you
and love has run out,
just as the man trying to blow through
the intersection we all know as 'life'
smoking his cigarette clouding his car
with ash and smoke
till the eighteen wheeler rams him off the road
and he turns into fire and ash
like his blackened lungs from all the cigarette buds
that were punched out in the ashtray we all call 'reality'
Red the symbol for blood, which flows from his open wounds
green for his greed for rushing through life
and the cigarette buds that littered his so-called 'great life'
-11/18/2013-

Yet another dream of her
(that smile, which brings such happiness to my heart)
she sitting with her sisters
in an idle photograph
she smiling like that,
arms around ones who truly love her,
she so beautiful,
dressed in her Thursday's best;
so beautiful like that
and you there in my dreams keeps me warm
(and my heart sings a tone, that the birds shed a tear too)
and I smile
and I live
and my heart flies to a place, not like this one
a place where love is in charge
and hate is not in the dictionary of life.
Another dream of the one woman who makes me smile,
yet the Gods do not let me have her;
but such a woman as that is not worthy of a man like I;
such a woman with such a smile as hers' deserves the best of the best,
and nothing but the best for her,
so as a man, I shall let go of her warm and glorious beauty
and give to a lucky man
and I shall not pout, nor envy him or her,
for something so beautiful as love and sacrifice
deserves such praise!
Oh yes another dream of her,
dancing with me in her evening ballroom dress,
in my arms,
as the smiling faces join hands with one another
and watch us dance in such a lovely dream.
her smile, such glory and so bright,
it blocks out the rays of the powerful sun
and can brighten the darkest of the Earth's four corners.
another dream of her,
that girl, that woman, that lady
who stomped out the fire that was burning away at my angry heart,
she gave faith to me,
and now I give her that blessing of true love
with another,
for I take such notion of her being happy with another,
than being with me and frowning.
Sure, tears have been shed, and jealousy has killed good men's judgment,
but such beauty as hers’ could kill a man.
Another dream of her,
my portrait lady,
my lovely dream girl,
my friend.

What is mind thought determination?
It is the sophisticated thoughts of a individual wit self-taught mental sophistications.
It is the chemical mind thought process brain inspirational enhanced created word creations.
It is the one thought that keeps your hopes from being eliminated by your own weak minded self-doubt double eliminations.
It is the the thought that can turn your own pains into pleasure of our own sensified sensations.
It is the thought that can turn you into a leader of tis lost generation to inspire my reservation and maybe even in others parts of this nation to get your own redemptive vindication of those who took away your aspirations.
THIS WORLD IS YOURS FOR THE TAKNG.
Mind thought determination is for your embracing not to be forsaken,
you are your own movie in the making, let not your hope in the mind be shaken.
MIND THOUGHT POWER over all tis senseless hating, we got to stop all our senseless
chasing, you are forever a leader in this free world racing.
If you locked up it don't matter how much time that you facing.
INCARCERATION IS JUST A MIND THOUGHT METAPHOR FOR SELF-INFLICTED IMPOSED LIMITATIONS.
It is the thought to use what is against you and turn your hateration into inspiration.
IMPRISONMENT or EMPOWERMENT the choice is yours REINCARNATION over REHABILITATION.
My mind has but one destination of all mankinds fascinations .....and that is to finally use my MIND THOUGHT DETERMINATION.........

When is the time
When is the time for unity
I feel may be not too sooner
Not Until we place love above all
Known as God
When is the time for peace
I feel may be not yet now
As it is
our ignorance is like
A wall in between the space
Of our joy from love
When is the time for joy
Not until all human are
Equal as one in love.
When is the time for love
I wish as I write
The time is now
For until then
The world will finally
Find here on earth the long
Awaited heaven.

Love jumped up one afternoon
and as I sat reading a book,
she kicking my door in
and took me in a dream wonderland
full of surreal life,
and Salvador Dali was there, painting
and Picasso sat smoking a cigarette,
and thumbing his nose at Dali,
but Dali smiled and kissed his feet.
Love tugged me by the hand, as an impatient mother
would do to her child in a candy shop.
She showed me a cloud,
and on that cloud was the twenty-seven club
smoking weed and drinking whiskey and playing music,
Jimi Hendrix playing his fender Stratocaster with his teeth,
Jim Morrison and Janis Joplin singing away to a blues tone,
Kurt Cobain and Robert Johnson were no where in sight though!
And I sat with them and I talked with them and I played with them
and I sang with them, and they loved me,
and we were happy,
and Love pulled me again and she kissed me on the lips,
and showed me three people who had broken my heart,
and they were dressed in grey and frowning,
I did not laugh and I did not cry, I just stood and stared
(they were ashamed to look at me,)
Love pulled me into her own little place,
on her own little cloud,
I sat on a throne decorated with gems and rubies
and their sat a table full of food and drink
and Love came close to me and fed me and cuddled on me
and kissed me and made me feel safe and secure.
She was a beautiful goddess, that Love girl.
She smiled and it made my heart jump and skip
and she held me close and there I trusted her
and trust I did to her.
I closed my eyes and I feel asleep and dreamed about anything that I wanted to.
Dream after dream of beautiful and glamorous things that made my head spin!
Love was by my side the whole night and day,
and there she was every single day,
in what felt to be May
and she sang a song;
that made me dance and kiss her more and more.
That day Love jumped up and kicked in my door,
was the best thing that ever occurred to me.
.1.24.2014.

Allowance
That is the true crime to my mind
Allowing entrance of this Idea
An Idea so intoxicating
It Blinded Me
Clouded Judgement
Drove me through a Fog
That I should've never gone through
The Burning Light
It was the only appeal I could see through the Fog
The only thing that even enticed my interest
Was it Fantasy?
Most likely
Fantasy Enshrouded with Arrogance of my own Design
A Design So Flawed
So Young
It would have been the End of myself
Had I continued after it
Perhaps, allowing the boat to float on
Was the best I did for my well being
Staying Or Even Attempting to go Aboard
Would have proven Fatal
In possibly, the most dangerous of ways..

Metaphoric Maze
Still damp from the wash of a waking dream I realize the pain from the past and how much
its lied
Although not by force I was led to believe in the dimmest of truths thus kept awash in grief
All of the many things now remade as they truly were splendid things simple hidden treasure
Grasping at the meaning from the other side of the murky metaphor is finally a thing not so
futile
It has always been worth the while even as the seconds have become long yet timeless years
My epic life a work of art the masters of fate around me still hard at work in bliss and
contempt
As I look down on the tableau from where I’ve become the high road, I can see it very
clearly now
It has never been the easy path filled with twist, turns, danger, and despair but so worth it all
Erected by cause and effect as a monument for later travelers to ponder as they reach for
the summit
Yes as feeble as it may seem the wizened ones were so right, the journey is its own reward

I arose
I arose from the fire
And saw nothing but dust
Swaying in the wind,
which gust wildly from left to right
And right to left
I arose from the fire
And saw no water;
The lakes and oceans
Dried up, like desert oasis
In the plain silent seas of love
I arose from heartbreak and sorrow,
To await for me on the tops of golden caped mountains
for me much more heartbreak and sorrow
That arises with the flames,
Follows not a storm of water, to sooth the sorrow,
But more fire to endure the pain of heartbreak
I arose to dust and ash
In a nightmare called “life”
And it was hell,
It still is hell,
But I still arise to a new day in hell.
-11-16-2013-

Coming on home,
in a rain storm on the 4th of July,
watching the neon colors of explosions
blowing high up in the dark, purple sky
spraying joy and happiness with designs
of man's love and creation.
Coming on home to a place
that is warm in the heart,
but cold in the mind of harsh memories
and of brushed fingertips and slashed backs
and broken bones and snapped spines;
warm in the heart... coming home to my baby
whose been gone for way too long,
and it's time for her to come home now!
Coming on home with a suitcase full of nothing,
and a book full of nothing,
and shoes and pants and a shirt and jacket filled with nothing,
coming on home with nothing,
nothing... at all-
Brains full of nothing but wasted air
and a mind full of broken dreams and worries
that snap in a moment's notice
without hesitation break my own back and snap my fingers
and blind my eyes with lye and grin at me,
as I come on home to nothing-
Coming on home,
homecoming,
a crown and sash(Homecoming King and Queen)
the dance, all the pretty girls dressed in white and blue
and the football game,
the home team loses by a touchdown,
but the kids they're still cheering and the cheerleaders do backflips
and smile and laugh,
the quarterback kisses his girlfriend on the fifty yard marker,
that was used for a battlefield;
(Boy, what a happy couple, voted the cutest couple in the Senior Polls)
Coming on home,
nothing special,
just another year with the same old heartbreak and sorrow
and same old smiles and frowns and dances and games
and cars that roam freely up and down the highways
and side streets going 90 in a 25.
Coming on home to a dark world
and for a moment everything is quiet
and sincere, and bang!!!
A high school romance that was never meant to become
was destroyed by envy and jealousy,
and this poem was written out of tears and a broken heart,
that has been shielded by smiles that hurt my face,
and tears held back that blinded my eyes,
and a scream that couldn't come out,
so it sits there, a lump in my throat
and this is the only way I can get it out,
by coming on home,
and writing this poem,
in peace and quiet.
.1.24.2014.

God's life lesson
found in his reflection
that he created in his image
was to learn never to discard or disregard the importance
or love he had for any of his creation
but to improve on them in every way
the meaning of life
love
fate
time
destiny
mankind
and life itself
He did this to surprise himself
and enjoy humbling himself for his creations
a planet and a heaven that does so for him
Living an everlasting life
where that he was the first to live
and the last to die
This lesson had to be learned prior to allowing his creations
to be by his side in eternal life
The meaning of life
and the angel of death
helped him learn what he needed to discover
to become flawless at this
The meaning of life
surrendered to a task of living a lie
becoming a false prophet whom would eventually sort this out
ask god for forgiveness
for being carried away in his selfrighteous lies and denial
of being loved by his creator
being a non believer of his maker
who had created something god placed above himself
god chose to forget himself
so this life lesson would be easier for him to realise
Thus god was inevitably going to be succesful
in this demonstation of forgiveness upon his creations and himself
to understand his new awareness
of a plan that he had for himself
to achieve a higher experience of eternal love
The meaning of life living a lie
to keep the everyone in blissful ignorance
of god's temporary weakness
and that was when the angel of death took part in helping god learn
by making the meaning of life's lie an unpleasant experience for everyone
The meaning of life then humbled himself
to the realisation
by being recognised as a team player a part of god's divine plan
by this truth recognised he would be healed
and the fact of who he did it for
god would know it was his brother's turn
to be released from the chains
of taking upon the metaphor or personification of murder
whom life itself was metaphorically married to
god's life lesson to learn from himself
his love and his creations to achieve the biggest miracle of love
one that would be never ending just continually improved on
as suggested by father time

There’s a moment when, crossing between two streetlamps, a double shadow appears,
arching from your fears, a body projected through years onto cracked concrete.
So, stopping, you watch it split in separate directions, no fixed perfections,
all later corrections point from now dividing as forces pull one into two,
coloured red or blue at different ends of the spectrum, matter is best left some space,
life isn’t a race in the traditional sense, but against the perception of yourself.
Worrying is bad for your health, because as much as television may scream in your ear,
grinding each individual gear, you need not wealth,
but a hand to pick you up and dust you off when you fall,
no problem at all, giving pats on the back, setting the wheels back on the track,
in motion again you walk on from staring at your shadow, standing won’t help you grow.
And I know it says not to walk towards the light, but this time it’s alright,
because looking back won’t help either. As a fighter, neither Rocky nor Rambo,
you face the night ahead, spit to clear your mouth of lead, and strut on son,
because you are only born once, and you only die once,
but it’s what you do between the two that makes you awesome.

Like a chain game
how one thought leads to the next
how one epic leads you to the next
one piece uncovers the next thought
but it doesn't matter to me anymore
I'll be dead soon
and this is my ghost
haunting you in this little world
for being soo smart
thinking someone
would read between my words
but I'm told
cheer up
it's not soo bad
non existent crime scene
shhhhh...i'm giving it all away
but it doesn't matter to me anymore
because this revolutionary
who knows too much
sheltering the youth all about prevention
you're too stupid to immerse yourself in and see through
Your metaphor for a prayer
reaching out to officials who don't believe me
and if they do
can't do anything with my suspicions
so why does it matter
give up all my secrets right here
and haunt you
as you go from link to link
p[age to page
and find the nothing of how i am something
and realize the maze of this place of dwelling
is not blasphemy
Do you need to slide sweetie?
are you haunted like me?
does your father seem like hes no longer there?
just where do we go from here
and hes fat but you remember how just a few weeks ago
he was skinny
HO HO HO
I'm all about prevention
of satanic cult murders and malpractice and political wrong doings
sorry if i sleep through your chirping birds
and i'm lost in my little world
but one day you'll turn around and thank me
and i'll damn all the people who laughed at all my good intentions
but what does it matter
I'll soon n be dead
and this is my ghost here to haunt!
so figure out the puzzle
i tried
but you just did nothing
and i thought you d be smart?
like the people on the bus
like the college proffesors
or the detectives
or everyone else
they don't see i''m a visionary
a victom of too little too late